Throne for a Loss
by mandy-somebody
Summary: The worst day since yesterday - John Connor's random thoughts.


_A short scribble of what I think could be going on in John Connor's head. It's either a one-shot or a series of one-shots, but right now, I think it's just a one-shot ;)  
And as for a disclaimer: I own nothing. Except my Tv. Which I love._

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**Throne for a Loss**

Looking outside, the sun never shines. Not anymore. It's like the nightmares you have, it's always dark.

Underground, where we're right now, the sun never shines either. It's funny how you miss the things you never paid attention before. The things you took for granted.

All is quiet on western front. We're waiting. We're sending runners out but they haven't spotted anything. Everyone here sends their love. We're here so that we can come home. We'll be home soon.

These young kids - the war isn't what it used to be. We were soldiers, men fighting the machines. Fighting for a future. Now what's left of us, a decade later, high school kids. That's what's left of us.

It's been months, almost a year when we started sending people back. It was the only way. You know you're losing a war when you start losing your hope. But you should never let it show. When they start noticing the 'game over' sign on your face, that's when it all ends. Right there. Sending those people back, it was the right choice.

I wish I could have gone too, mom. I would have loved to see you. It's been a very long time and I've already forgotten a lot about you. I'm not sure if my memories are real or if they're just the dreams I've had these past years. I would have wrapped my arms around you. I'd say I love you. I never said it often enough.

This is the worst day since yesterday.

These guys, they have to have something to believe in. They're fighting for their wives and girlfriends, for their children. For the right to exist and be happy. It's ironic, that we didn't get it before. What matters. How ignorant can people be? We make our true discoveries in chaos.

We're all fighting for God. He's on our side. The holy war. Every kamikaze flying for a spot in Heaven. Where everyone already dead will be waiting. The big bright light. And there are many of them, dead people, waiting. It won't be dark anymore.

Hope is an illusion. The blissful oblivion. And God is too. How everything will be alright when you have hope. And God. It won't be alright. Trust me. It won't. It only feels that way.

What happens right now in the past, I don't know. I only know now. I hope that the future we had yesterday won't be the same future we have tomorrow. But you have to understand, for us here, it's always now. No matter what happens, it's always now.

Sending her back was the hardest. It's not easy to be John Connor, it's not easy to be me. It's a burden I wouldn't let anyone else have or share. I didn't want it, but someone has to take responsibility. Someone has to worry for that others wouldn't have to. Still it was a relief. She was a relief. The breath of air after you've been under water too long. You know she'd be strong enough when it was too much for you.

I don't know if she'll come back. I only know now.

I know I've been holding my breath ever since.

When your family's dead and your God is dead too, there isn't much fighting for. These pep talks, they're routine by now. Sending kids to die. For their family, for the humankind, for all of us. Choosing the best way to motivate them. Let them believe they're not dying in vain. I hope they're not.

It's not like I'm bitter. This is just life. I don't know who to blame. I don't believe in destiny but this wasn't my choice either. You were born and then you were told you're going to be this hero, the savior. The messiah. I don't think I'm worth it.

Mom, when I die, I hope you're waiting.

They're getting stronger, better, faster. We're getting smaller and weaker.

I want to believe this is our survival story. The sort of story they make movies about. How when everything's lost people unite, grab each other by the hand and sing hallelujah on the streets. The story where everything has to fall apart, so we can be something better.

Everything has fallen apart. I don't think we're any better. There's no happy ending.

I'm sorry mom. You raised me to be a better man.

The machines. I keep on going because of them. That's been the only reason for a while now. Whatever encouraging words drop out of my lips, the machines are why I fight. I have nothing to fight for, so I'm fighting against them.

What happens if in the past the machines kill me? What happens if Cameron fails and I die? What happens to me then? What if I die in the middle of my life story?

And if they do stop Skynet, prevent all of this from happening, what will happen to us? Do we get erased? Or replaced? Or do we continue this and they will go on living another future.

I hope they succeed. I hope they'll have a better tomorrow. For their sake I hope they never have to come back. And for all of us here, I hope our souls will be reborn as butterflies.

I've started to think this is who I was supposed be. I was born into this and I will die because of this. This war is my reason to exist. My cradle and my grave.

I'm at the edge of death but I can't be saved.

This is me. The hollow shell of a man. The brave and victorious leader. I'm Castro and Jesus combined. The revolution and the human sacrifice. What a noble thought. The martyr, Saint me.

Being John Connor can be lonely. But it's not just lonely. It's a full-time job.

Don't get me wrong. It's not all that bad. It's just the opposite of good.

Every week, every day we're digging tunnels deeper and deeper. We're retreating below the ground. Our claustrophobic reality. Walls closing in on us. We're digging a tomb for ourselves.

Don't get me wrong. It's not despair. It's just the opposite of hope.

Looking outside, the sun never shines. But it doesn't matter. Not anymore. Today is the kind of day where the sun would only shine to remind you of the things you lost.


End file.
